The Last One Standing
by FairyChipper
Summary: A semi-senile, retired stormtrooper relates his adventures to his great-granddaughter with a little too much information.
1. We were not all clones

**We Were Not All Born in Cloning Tanks**

**The Last One Standing**

**By Fairy Chipper**

_**Note**: Sorry, I am not Disney, therefore I do not own Star Wars. However, I am happy that Lucas cannot inflict another Jar Jar upon us all._

Kana Leed-Fett hated nursing homes. No matter how many droids the facility employed, there was a certain stench that made her stomach churn. A part of her wished that all these old folks just _Become One with the Force_. Another part started contingency planning for the day she would snap and go on a killing spree. She had a blaster hidden under her cloak and knew how to use it.

However, the sane part of her overworked mind knew that old Mandalorians were the most dangerous Mandalorians. Unlike other cultures were the old were generally peaceful, Mandalorians only get more vicious with age. Today, she was going to meet the oldest Mandalorian alive.

The Fett clan was the largest clan in all of Mandalore. It always was since Jingo Fett got cloned. In old Mandalorian, clans names were based on occupation, location, or physical feature of some ancestor. Fett was Mandalorian for fat.

Kana was thankful that she did not inherit the name or physical features associated with the name.

Instead, as a child, she was nicknamed Maus because she was small like her mother and shy. Her cousins on her father's side of the family were the big and stocky Fetts. They made the mistake of thinking that Maus would cower forever until she nearly killed five of her cousins during a family reunion when she was twelve. Suddenly she went from the soft and dainty mouse to being the most sought after bride. _Hell, violent was always the new sexy for Mandalorians_. Thirty-six years, six kids, and a career in the New Republic's Commando Corps later, General Kana Leed-Fett, retired, returned home planning to enjoy retirement until she got stuck with clan duties.

First, Kana thought it would be easy to retire. She was respected, bashed in the appropriate heads, and learned from her mother's Cornellian family how to get others to believe that they were doing their own thing when in reality they were following your wishes. She climbed up the ranks, but wisely stepped aside before they could make her Mand'alor.

Now all she had to do was hold a meeting and occasionally bash some heads if they were just being stupid. Mandalorians might worship conflict, but even they knew when they were outclassed. No one wanted to mess with the former head of the New Republic's commando forces.

However as acting clan head, part of her duties were to ensure that the clan head was well taken care of, as well as bring in clan council decisions for his ratification. Kana was the second generation descendant of the first acting clan head and the sixteenth person curse to deal with the 'Old Man.' For sixteen months, she had to deal the a senile, mean bastard who was getting soft upstairs, but still had an old-school Mandalorian trigger finger and a couple extra spare blasters in reach. So far, he had managed to hang on, surviving half a dozen attempts. The old man was a target. Being the last living stormtrooper mean that for certain species, he was the last possible target for their vengeance.

For the fifteenth time in as many minutes, Kana cursed the fact that half her family were Mandalorians.

Mandalorians were fighters. Even when they knew that their position was 'wrong' they still stubbornly fought. Once a Mandalorian staked his or her position, not even death made them compromise. Herding cats or going into politics was easier than getting the Old Man to compromise.

Kana took a deep breath, placed a fake smile, and walked into the suite of doom.

It took a lifetime of self-discipline to not run back out.

_Okay, the Old Man does not need male stimulants to be aroused_.

Kana walked out and waited fifteen minutes until the shower was off. She place the memory of seeing her great grandfather yanking off into the mental bin of _'Get Eff'ed Up Until There is No Way I Can Ever Recall This Incident Again.'_

She straightened out her blouse and walked back in.

The Old Man was dressed in a robe and thankfully was wearing shorts underneath the robes.

"Hello Maus," the Old Man asked, "Do you want grandma's candied apples?"

"No thank you," Kana replied.

"It was your favorite," the Old Man insisted.

"Grandmother said that I can't while I am getting my braces adjusted."

"Sorry."

Thankfully the Old Man was tamed enough to not even think of going behind his wife's back. Thankfully, the fact that his wife was twenty years dead did not matter.

"Grandfather, I brought with me some documents that needs your signature."

Kana slowly reached into her bag and brought out the data pad. Only a fool spooked a trigger happy old man.

"I just need your thumbprint here."

"Kana…did I ever tell you how I ended up joining the Empire and eventually the Rebel Alliance?"

Kana resisted the urge to attempt to kill the old man.

_Must not reach for blaster…must not reach for blaster…must not…_

She had only heard the tale a thousand times growing up and heard it a thousand times more since she was the one now stuck with being temporary clan head.

"Contrary to what Rebel propaganda says, stormtroopers are not clones," the old man said. "I had a mommy and daddy just like you and your cousins have a mommy and daddy. My daddy was called Rex and my mother was Ahsoka. Or was Ahsoka my older half-sister Asha's mother. Oh yes, my mommy was Pele. She had the prettiest red hair and boy did she have a temper to match. She would let daddy come over and if daddy did not bring enough money, she would chase daddy shooting his blaster."

_Not again…_

"Mommy named me Rex Junior after my daddy. Like all the other kids, our daddies were clone troopers. Our mommies' jobs were to collect our daddies' paychecks, raise the kids, and ensure that no one could get access to our daddies DNA. It worked quite well. Our daddy's were only fourteen years old when the Clone Wars were over and they did not have any daddy to teach them about using condoms."

_Please shoot me. I do not want to be reminded that my great-great-grandmother was a camp follower._

"By the time we were seven, we all knew that we would be the next generation of Imperial Stormtroopers. It's natural. Our fathers were clones of a Mand'alore and all survived the worst fighting of the war. Between breeding and training, we were too dangerous for peaceful jobs like bounty hunting and living obstacle removal specialist. I could not wait to pass secondary education and become a shiny!"

The old man was standing on his bed in a heroic pose.

"Oh, were was I…" the old man asked.

Thankfully, his confusion gave her an opportunity to fast forward through a small part of his recollection.

"Talking about your tour on the Death Star."


	2. On the Death Star

**My Time Aboard the Death Star**

**The Last One Standing**

**By Fairy Chipper**

"Kanna, did I ever tell you about my time on the Death Star," the old man uttered.

Kana resisted the urge to repeated bang her head against the nearest hard surface. Sure it was interesting the first time she heard this tale, but the thousandth…

"Imperial officers were perhaps the best recruiters of all time and of the lot…Darth Vader was the best of them all. 'Come join the Empire, see, experience and interact with ancient, alien cultures, and then kill them all! For the elite, we promise shiny new uniforms. For the best of the best there was always the unspoken promise of a chance to don the latest black prosthetic suit and use a cool red lightsaber to cut your way through all the Empire's foes.' What kid with any Mandalorian blood running through his veins could resist that call?

"It was all lies and bore as much to reality as a nerf herder's right hand is akin to a certain princess in a chainmail bikini.

"Our disappointment was our armor. It was the lowest grade plastic that could be found. I cannot begin to think of how many bribes got paid to pass off that junk as armor. I remember my daddy's armor. It was metal…real Mandalorian weave. This new stuff…Jabba's dancing girls wore more effective armor. Hell, our daddy's stuff stood up to enraged Wookies. Our stuff, little Ewoks with rocks could beat us.

"Second, I was promised the most elite posting in the galaxy, a real chance to be on the front lines against the scum of the universe. I was number one in my stormtrooper class at the Carida Academy. I was promoted to Stormtrooper corporal upon graduation. The captain promised me a posting with Vader's 501st. What did I get…guarding an empty corridor on the Death Star. The only thing I saw cleaning droids and my sergeant randomly checking up on me.

"My orders were worse than I could ever image at the time. 'TK-421, guard this corridor. TK-421, make sure that cleaning droid M-O 1138 gives a protocal three dot five scrubbing on the floor every 28.2 standard minutes. TK-421 please make sure that you communicator is on Imperial propaganda frequency nine eighty.' It was never, 'TK-421 guard the sexy princess,' or 'TK-421 kill the rebel scum.' Hell, my blaster was virgin during my rookie assignment. While my classmates got to kill Rebel scum, the only action I was my shooting hand on my joystick while I stared at smuggled videos of Jabba's dancers waiting for that Twi'lek Oola's tit to pop out while she was dancing."

Kana knew exactly what was coming next. As a kid, her grandmother would clock her great-grandparent on the head with a steel girder to shut him up, but now there was no shutting the old man up.

"Worse yet, we got these doors that swoosh or crash. Imaging 180 ton doors crashing shut faster than a squadron of Tie fighters racing back to the bar after a battle. More than one stormtrooper got his career terminated by those blast doors.

"Even worst was the small doors that lead to our quarters. When I was off duty, I could not enjoy the privacy of my sleep cubical without my door swooshing every fifteen minutes or so. There was no override or lock that allowed me any privacy. No it swoosh…swoosh…swoosh every time somebody walked by. Even clones need a little privacy.

"I was frankly getting stir crazy. Even clones need recreation and I was not a clone. I couldn't take it anymore. There were no females aboard save for some prisoners scheduled for termination and there were officer in line for viewing the video feed of them taking a shower. I was stuck enjoy my pictures of a certain princess caught on a nude beach on Alderaan when Vader walked by my door.

"Being on the Death Star was supposed to be a career enhancing posting, however the door swooshed open just as I was shooting my personal blaster. Vader, having got a facial, looked at me and gave me the Conan Motti treatment (Choking but still alive). It could be worst, most of the time, I would have gotten the Raymus Antilles (Choke until dead), but Vader was too cruel to be that merciful.

"I got forced choked …my ticket to stormtrooper officer school got rerouted. Vader confiscated my nude Princess Leia photos and personally 'recruited me' to join the Torrent Company of the 501st. My father was proud that I was in his former unit and told that my new commander was the best commander he ever had. Thankfully, Vader did not tell anyone exactly why I was made his orderly…a.k.a. bitch.

"TK-421, scrub my helmet. TK-421, clean up the remains of this idiot I just choked. TK-421, my 'freshly-made' hot coco is too cold, kill the mess hall crew. TK-421, that rebel just pissed and shat himself, kill him and clean up the area. TK-421, fluff my pillow and read me a bedtime story. TK-421, make sure that you get ambushed by the rebel scum hiding in that junk freighter.

"It was the assignment from hell. The only assignments that would be worse than being Vader's bitch was being either one of Jabba's bitches or Emperor Palpatine's bitch, a.k.a. Vader. Palpatine literally screwed Vader's arse and Vader figuratively screwed mine without any lubrication. My only hope was for some other idiot to earn his way onto Vader's shit list. If Vader knew that Leia's was his daughter on Bespin, Han Solo would have been Vader's new bitch and I would have been free. But no…there was no escaping Vader.

"Other than that time we boarded the _Tantive IV_, we were not allowed to kill Rebel scum. Sure I finally got to devirginize my E-11 by killing some Jawas and a couple buddies of mine got to blast two moisture farmers away, but the rest of the time, we were order to not hit anyone. We were supposed to let them escape thinking that they were good enough until we could find their main base.

"It was hell. We stormtroopers of the 501st were supposed to be the elite of the elite. No one was supposed to be as precise as we were with our E-11 blaster rifles. In the end, all we got to was graze our targets. We weren't even allowed flesh wounds. Our squad leaders were allowed one leg-shot or arm graze per engagement and do you think that they would let us be the lucky one to shot that one good shot…Hell no. The only reason that my targets were able to reproduce was that I was good enough to miss their reproductive organs by a centimeter. Our reputation as being Vader's White Death was in tatters. We went from the being Vader's elite to being the poster child for Imperial Marksmanship Academy dropouts.

"No, the 501st was Vader's fist, but instead of striking down Vader's foes, we got be his _proctologists_, just digging into the univerise's bunghole and pulling out shit. I was so happy when Vader ordered me to get ambushed on that Cornellian frieghter. Getting knocked out seem like action. Afterwards, the few of us on the Death Star were ordered back to the Executor, just in time to avoid the First Death Star fiasco at Yavin."

The old man closed his eyes and started snoring. Kana resister the urge to yelp in excitement. Here was her chance to slip away before he got into the Battle of Hoth. She did not want to hear again about stormtroopers deliberately pissing in their armor in a futile attempt to stay warm.


End file.
